If These Walls Could Talk
by hiddenfiresindeed
Summary: A series of Brolin one shots taking place at the hotel in Pierrefonds, France. Will include Bradley, Colin, Katie, Angel, who knows? Will be non-slash, but let your imagination go where it will. New chapter: Colin is late to the NTAs, but Bradley has always been good about sharing. Written for a prompt with Bradley and Colin sharing a seat at the NTAs.
1. A Bruised Coccyx

Title: If These Walls Could Talk

Characters/Pairings: Bradley James, Colin Morgan

Rating: K

Summary: A series of one shots taking place at the hotel in Pierrefonds, France, where all our favorite _Merlin_ actors resided. Oneshots will include Bradley, Colin, Katie, Angel, Eoin… who knows, maybe Richard and Anthony? Will be non-slash, but let your imagination go where it will.

A/N: We all know Colin was injured and emergency services were called out to the set while filming Series 2, and I had to explore that a bit. Poor Colin. He was probably fussed over way too much by the crew!

A Bruised Coccyx

He should have been there. The problem with filming the _Fires of Idirsholas_ was that he and Colin had done too many scenes apart, so of course, the younger man would fall and get himself injured while Bradley was off with the second unit on the other side of the castle. Rumor reached Bradley shortly after lunch that his mate had taken a very Merlin-esque tumble and was currently nursing a genuinely sore, bony bottom. At the time, Bradley had bitten back a snicker and assumed an appropriately sympathetic face when he had heard the news, but there were no chuckles when he met up with his friend for the evening meal. Watching Colin limp through the meal queue, a frown had creased the blonde's forehead.

"Mate, you don't look so good," he had warned, taking a step back to check his friend over. "Maybe you'd better tell Jeremy you're done for today."

Colin had shaken his head vehemently. "Mmm, no, it's fine. Just a little sore. M'own fault."

Bradley's frown deepened. "Cols, really, you don't want to mess with a thing like your back… At least let the medic look at you."

But Colin had scowled at him (it was adorable, really, when Col got worked up), and he had shaken his head again, taking a step further away from his costar in a non-verbal warning. "It's fine," there had been unmistakable irritation in his voice. "I'm not going to stop today's shoot just because I'm clumsy."

Bradley had sighed in exasperation, recognizing when it was futile to continue, but he had taken Colin's salad laden tray from him without a word, his face brooking no opposition from his injured colleague. And after they had finished eating, he had slipped quietly away to have a word with the first AD, hoping someone would keep a watchful eye over his friend's stubborn persistence.

So he should have been prepared, and he absolutely wasn't, when word came over the second AD's mobile that Emergency Services had been called, and an ambulance was en route. His heart had stopped beating for a few moments, he was sure he had felt it cease, because of all people, he _knew_ how easily Colin could hide any illness, and he internally began cursing a blue streak of self-remonstrances as his feet sped through the castle corridors.

He had arrived at Colin's and Katie's location as the ambulance pulled in. Bradley watched the emergency crew applying the neck brace, log-rolling his best mate onto the backboard, and the tall blonde's body had leaned forward as if to push through the sudden crowd of medical personnel to get to his friend.

Bradley had suddenly felt a firm hand on his shoulder, and it anchored him for the moment. "It's just spinal precautions, Bradley," Anthony had said in a low, reassuring voice, patting the chain-mail covered shoulder. "It's just standard procedure. He's alright."

But he didn't _look_ alright. Nodding wordlessly, Bradley had watched the flurry of ministrations being performed, as the emergency crew began taking vital signs and shining bright lights into his friend's pain-dulled eyes, strange hands running firmly over scrawny limbs, searching for possible fractures. Anthony's voice had continued to soothe in the background, but the young English actor had not been able to discern a word, his whole world having narrowed down to the small body strapped onto the stretcher, and the white, pinched face partially visible above the stiff, plastic collar. The younger lad seemed to be struggling to breathe, but Bradley couldn't tell if it was a result of painful respirations, steadily growing fear, or something else even more alarming. He had watched as medics began to roll up BP cuffs and tuck away pulse oximeters, and he'd realized they were readying to leave.

Suddenly breaking free from Anthony's supportive hold, he had determinedly made his way through the crowd of onlooking crew and cast, walking purposefully toward the stretcher. Bradley heard Alice call out warningly to him, but he strode on without heeding, because this – this was Colin. And Colin was _everything_.

He had inserted a broad shoulder between two medics who had just finished taping down a peripheral IV lock in his friend's arm, and he had leaned forward slightly to place himself in his colleague's line of vision.

"Mate, what'd I tell you?" he growled comically, rolling his eyes. "If you wanted the evening off, we could have found easier ways to do it."

Colin had let out a soft puff of air, his pained version of a laugh, and a small, tight smile had appeared, but he didn't answer.

"You alright?" Bradley had grown serious, looking down into the dark blue, cringing at the fear and frustration he found there. Rubbish question… of course he wasn't alright.

"Yeah," Colin had replied, his voice low and pinched. "Jeremy just wanted to have everything checked." He had attempted an awkward shrug beneath the c-collar, then had stiffened at the sudden jolt of pain brought on by the movement.

"Well, listen, I'll come as soon as we wrap things up for the night," Bradley had promised, reaching a hand to gently squeeze the slight shoulder reassuringly, unable to do more with so many eyes watching them. He had backed away, his worried gaze following the stretcher until it had disappeared out of sight behind closed ambulance doors.

Later that evening, when the final scene for the day had been shot, the exhausted young man had headed (against Jeremy's and Richard's logical advice) to the local hospital where his friend was being kept overnight. Colin had been so drugged on pain-relieving medication that an intelligent conversation between the two had been impossible, but the genuine, if somewhat loopy, grin that had lit up the Irishman's face on seeing his costar, had stayed with Bradley all the way back to their hotel, reassuring him that his friend was going to be okay.

And the next morning, after Colin had been released from the hospital with a diagnosis of "Bruised Coccyx" (whatever the heck that was), the young man had returned on set, gamely insisting that he was fine, and that production could continue as usual.

Bradley and Richard (and really the entire crew) had kept a furtive watch over the injured actor, noting the limp that suddenly appeared when a scene ended and the cameras had stopped rolling, or the rigid way he uncomfortably fidgeted in the folding chairs set up off to the side, while waiting for a scene to be set up.

By the end of the day, Colin's pinched face had taken an ashen hue, and Bradley had picked up on his discomfort as soon as he slid next to his friend in the rear seat of the van. Calling out a cheery greeting, Bradley quickly guided the conversation towards aspects of the day's filming, knowing full well that his friend was most likely weary of all the scrutiny and well-meaning inquiries after his health. Even so, he glanced furtively over at his friend while Colin was conversing with Angel, and the blonde noted in concern the tiny, drawn lines of pain beneath the wide, blue eyes, and the occasional tightening of the pale lips, indications of the weariness and discomfort brought on by the full day's work.

Bradley watched as the youngest of their group called out smiling goodnights to the two girls, then turned to walk towards their own rooms, the limp more exaggerated now that they were alone, and the mask beginning to slip from his face. The blond shifted uncertainly on his feet as they neared Colin's hotel door. "You need anything, mate?" he asked nervously, unsure how to help his friend.

"No," the other boy smiled wanly, "I just need a good sleep." He looked over at his friend under the harsh glare of the outdoor corridor lights, gratitude reflected in his eyes. "Ta, I'm fine."

Bradley watched him enter his room and shut the door and continued on to the next door down the walkway. Entering the small hotel room that had become his home for the past few months, he kicked off his trainers and dropped wearily into a chair. Regretting his lack of personal fridge yet again, as milk and biscuits would be _very much_ appreciated at the moment, the young man scowled at the floor for a moment, then bounced back out of his chair, unable to shake the uneasy feeling. The hooded, glazed look in Colin's normally cheery eyes haunted him, and he couldn't get past the growing urge that he needed to do something to make it better.

Abruptly, he stopped his pacing and turned to open the door again, slipping back out into the corridor in his bare feet. Not quite sure what he intended to do, the blonde boy hesitated outside Colin's door, looking uncertainly at the paneling, then knocked quickly before he could change his mind.

Hearing a faint "Come in", he tried the handle and was surprised to find the door still unlocked. Opening the door cautiously, he peered inside, then suddenly burst out laughing. Colin sat on the edge of his bed, blue plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a tee laying next to him on the duvet, and the dark haired boy was staring forlornly at his feet, slightly out of breath.

Quickly surmising the situation, Bradley couldn't hold back the wide grin. "Trouble there?" he asked, strangled laughter still lingering in his voice.

His colleague was not amused. Frustration etched across his features, the younger man attempted once again to lift one leg up and pull a foot out of his jeans, only to stop abruptly with a sharp intake of breath as his body stiffened in pain. Bradley's laughter faltered and he took pity on his friend, turning to close the door behind him.

"Here, let me help," he said softly, moving to stand in front of the injured boy. Colin turned his eyes upward to glare daggers at his friend, shaking his head in mute protest.

"C'mon, mate," the blonde ignored Colin's now very verbal protestations, reaching down to hold one thin arm in his grip, the other hand encircling the narrow waist to lift the Irish actor into a standing position. Ignoring how light – far too light – his friend's weight felt as he maneuvered him, Bradley steadily held onto his friend's elbows until the wave of muscle spasms began to ease.

"Sorry, Cols," he muttered, refusing to look at his friend's face as he leaned down to inch the denims over the hips and off the scrawny legs. Once he had worked then mostly down, he helped lower the scarlet-complexioned boy back to a sitting position on the edge of the bed, and he knelt to remove the jeans now piled at his feet. Braving a look at the other young man's inflamed face, he forgot all about the awkward situation, his attitude immediately preoccupied with his friend's distress. The simple act, coupled with the day's long exertion, had clearly been too much movement, and Colin sat limply, the exhaustion and pain obvious in his expression.

After a moment of shallow, too-rapid breaths, Colin became aware of his surroundings, and looked up. "I think I've got it from here, James," he said dryly, the sarcastic humor attempting to gloss over the awkward situation for both of them. Then, his face softened into a grateful smile. "Thanks, Bradley."

The older lad hesitated, not wanting to leave his friend in obvious discomfort. "What you need is a hot soak." Before Colin could protest, he had bounded from the room into the loo, and the sound of running water reached the other's ear. Returning into the bedroom, Bradley again helped his friend to stand, moving in small, steady steps towards the toilet. "You haven't taken any of those narcotics, right? I wouldn't want you falling asleep and drowning yourself, or anything…."

Colin shook his head. "No, only paracetamol."

"You're taking the other pills when you get out." Colin began to dissent again, but Bradley ignored him, pushing the slight young man gently through the toilet door. "Call if you need any help."

The Englishman wandered aimlessly about the room, shamelessly nosing around while he waited for his costar to finish his bath. Seeing official looking documentation laying on the bedside table, Bradley recognized the forms as hospital discharge paperwork, and unabashedly lifted the documents to read through the patient instructions. A moment later, an exasperated "Morgan!" escaped in a deafening bellow from the blonde. He heard a startled yelp, quickly followed by a loud crash and a muffled "Ow!", then an irritated and fearful " _What_?!" sounded from behind the loo door.

Bradley winced, regretting his thoughtless outburst. "Are you okay?"

The toilet door opened, and an angry Colin appeared in the doorway, dressed in boxers and an old tee, his dark hair damp and plastered against his forehead. "What?!" he repeated in annoyance.

Bradley stuttered for a moment, nonplussed simply because the Irish actor looked so ridiculously adorable and childish standing in the doorway. But Colin's annoyed scowl recalled him to the reason for his outburst, and he held up the medical papers. "Your discharge instructions say 'Bedrest'. For _two days_!" He waved the papers in the air, meeting the dark blue eyes accusingly. "And no strenuous activity for one week!" Colin's eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the papers in Bradley's hand. "I'm fairly sure what you did today was strenuous, and definitely not bedrest!"

Colin ignored the last statement. "You're reading my private papers," he answered in a flat voice.

"Yeah, well…" Bradley shrugged, feeling that his friend had missed the point entirely. He walked over to take Colin's arm, guiding him to the bed and using his weight to help the boy lower down to a sitting position. Silently, he picked up the flannels and knelt to shimmy the pajama bottoms over skinny feet and pasty legs. Standing, the older actor bent to wrap both arms around the thin back, locking hands behind his friend to lift him into a standing position, not failing to note how little his colleague was able to weight-bear this time around.

"It also says to ice and heat every two hours," he added gently. "How much of that did you get done today?"

Colin had the grace to look sheepish, guiltily tilting his head to one side. Again with the adorable. Bradley rolled his eyes. "Come on, Col." Bending to tug pillows from under the duvet, he tossed them at the foot of the bed, and then carefully assisted Colin to lie on his stomach across the bed, watching his friend's body clench tightly with sharp spasms, waiting with his hands still supporting his friend's arms until the muscles began to unclench, and the lines slowly began to ease on the young face.

Bradley walked back to the table and returned a moment later. "Here, take these," he said quietly, holding out two pills in his palm, handing Colin a cup of water. He then turned to flip on the telly, tucking the remote in the young man's hand. "Be right back," he promised, scurrying out of the room. Hurrying down to the front desk, Bradley managed to obtain ice from the hotel staff, shamelessly employing his courteous mannerisms and golden smile to full advantage.

Back in the Irishman's room, he filled the ice bag provided by the hospital, and approached the bed, noting with satisfaction that Colin already looked much more relaxed, his expression peaceful, and slightly sleepy.

Bradley settled the icebag on the boy's lower back, and the nearly-dozing lad jumped, his body jerking painfully. "Sorry, sorry," Bradley muttered, trying not to laugh. He waited quietly, watching as the slight body relaxed again, the dark head sinking back onto the pillows, eyes closed. Inexplicable affection flared up in his chest, and without thinking, Bradley placed a warm palm on the pasty forehead. The drowsy, sleep-laden eyes opened briefly at the touch and looked up, and the lad flashed his own unique Colin-brand of smile at his friend, before closing his eyes again wearily.

Bradley sighed in exasperation, having long ago given up trying to figure this whole thing out, and he sank down to sit beside his friend. The protective stance that always flared up when he was around Colin still puzzled him, but all he could sort out was that this was where he belonged – by this spectacular person's side, looking after him.

A soft snore reached his ears, and Bradley looked down with a smile at the resting young man. Carefully rising, he snatched a throw from off a chair to cover the long body, then moved around the room to turn off the telly and the table lamp. Reflecting that it was fortunate that tomorrow was their scheduled day off, Bradley added the "Do Not Disturb" sign to the front of his friend's door and noiselessly slipped out with one last backward glance at the dark lashes fanned out against pale cheekbones. _Job well done._


	2. Of Darkness and Spiders

Title: Of darkness and spiders

Characters/Pairings: Bradley James, Colin Morgan

Rating: K+

Summary: Pierrefonds experiences a power cut during a storm, and someone is afraid of the dark. With good reason.

A/N: Touches lightly on Northern Ireland's recent past. I am in no way political (although I am a bit of a history nerd), and never discuss my opinion on politics, so this is meant to be nothing more than a tale of one little boy whose life was touched by the Troubles. Based off an interview Colin gave in 2012.

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

Bradley leaned forward to flip the telly switch off, fatigue from the day beginning to take its toll on his body. He paused to listen to the sounds of the storm raging outside, a bitter wind occasionally rattling at the back window. The young man shuffled slowly to the lavatory, readying for sleep, exhaustion beginning to pull at his eyelids. As he stumbled back out and plodded towards his bed, another crack of thunder sounded, and the lamp on the bedside table quickly flickered out. Momentarily startled, Bradley peered out the back window into the all-too dark beyond. _Great, a power cut._ Shrugging in resignation, he quickly set a backup alarm on his mobile, and turned the duvet down, more than ready to forget the storm and the day's strenuous shoot.

Before he could crawl beneath the warm layers, however, a soft pad was heard moving swiftly and quietly in the next room, and a moment later, a gentle, hesitant tap sounded on his hotel door. Bradley scowled in irritation. With one last, longing glance at the empty bed, he turned and pulled the door open wide.

His co-star stood before him, partially damp from the wind-swept rain, looking impossibly adorable in flannel pyjamas and an old tee, his hair sleep-tousled and wind-blown. Colin shifted from one bare foot to the other nervously.

"Did I wake you?" he asked softly, tilting his head to the side and covertly looking up at his friend through thick, dark lashes.

Bradley hesitated. The need for rest was still calling to him, but to his chagrin, he had learned early on in their first year on set, that he would do anything Colin asked of him, when he gave him that particular look. And the thought that terrified Bradley was that he actually, literally meant _anything_. His only saving grace had been that his co-star seemed completely unconscious of the fact. Not wanting to follow that line of thought any further, the blonde fell back on a proven method of life imitating art. Another discovery he had made during their first months together, was that staying in-character off screen amused the Irish actor to no end, and affecting Arthur's prattishness had many times been a welcome solution to otherwise awkward situations. The blonde straightened his back, pulling his hands up to narrow hips.

"What's the matter, _Colin_?" he sneered, his eyes sparkling playfully. "Afraid of the dark, are we?"

A hurt expression flittered briefly across the thin, angular face before Colin uttered a weak laugh and plastered a cheeky grin in place. Not before his friend had observed it, however, and Bradley's eyes narrowed, briefly wondering how often the polite, smiling Colin on set was merely an act as well. Another thought for him to file away for a later time. Bradley tossed his head back with a fond grin, opening the door wider. "Come on, then," he invited, and Colin returned the smile, sheepishly following him inside.

The younger actor dropped into a chair against the wall, and stared moodily at the floor, the momentary joviality vanished. Bradley remained in the centre of the room, glancing subtly at his bed. Mentally calculating the number of pillows in the room, he was busy pondering if it would be terribly rude to offer his colleague a pallet on the floor, because there was _no way in heck_ he was sharing a bed with his co-star, fringe-lashed puppy eyes not withstanding, when a soft, small voice sounded from the corner of the darkened room.

"I'm not a coward." The statement was brief but emphatic, the brogue thick with emotion.

Bradley turned, a snarky retort already forming, but the words died on his lips as he looked into his friend's face. Colin was in deadly earnest.

"Cols, I – " the blonde stuttered, nonplussed for the moment. "I was only teasing; of course you're not a coward." He flopped down on the edge of the bed, facing his friend. "I would never think that."

They sat in silence for a moment, Bradley wondering how he was going to fix this, and what precisely it was he was meant to fix. Colin Morgan was not exactly garrulous at the best of times, but when he was upset or bothered by something, he invariably closed down to the rest of the world. In fact, it had always been a point of ridiculous pride to Bradley, that he and Richard alone were allowed glimpses into the real Colin's life. Clearing his throat uneasily, he searched for words to say, but the dark-haired lad spoke first, breaking the silence.

"I just…. don't like the dark very much," the Irishman offered feebly, his face clearly reflecting the struggle of sharing personal information warring against the desperate need to not appear weak in Bradley's eyes. Colin shrugged slightly with a soft puff of deprecating laughter.

"Well," Bradley answered slowly, leaning forward to clasp his hands between his knees, choosing his words carefully, "We all have things we'd rather avoid. Me? Not so much a fan of spiders."

Colin snorted, and the blonde ventured to lift his eyes to his colleague's face. The dark blue still held traces of shamed embarrassment, but the younger man held his gaze clearly, and Bradley grinned.

"I'm sure I've got Word Search on here somewhere," the older boy muttered, picking up his phone and swiping through applications.

Colin clicked his tongue from the corner. "You'd better be careful," he advised, nodding towards the mobile. "You'll run down the battery, and it might be a while before you can recharge it."

Bradley tossed the phone down with a growl. "Well, then go get your DS; 'cause if you think I'm going to just sit here looking at your ugly face all night, Morgan…" His voice trailed off, and Colin stood with a laugh, heading for the door.

Twenty minutes later, the two boys were sprawled across the hotel room floor, racing their respective karts furiously. Bradley was in the midst of succumbing yet again to defeat, when his friend interrupted is concentration with a mumble. "It used to be dark a lot back then," the blue eyes had drifted to the carpet, lost in memory, the hand holding the DS falling limply.

"Hmm, what?" Bradley muttered, taking advantage of his friend's inattention to run him off the track mercilessly.

"When I was a kid. Sometimes, the fighting would be bad for a few days, and blocks of houses would lose electricity. It was a bit weird, seeing all the streets blacked out." Colin shrugged dismissively. "Didn't matter much, with the curfew, anyway."

Bradley looked up slowly from the game, ignoring the fact that his Mario kart had ended in a spectacular explosion. As Colin's offhand words began to register, he felt a shamed glow spread through his cheeks, recalling his mocking words earlier. The blonde could only imagine how terrifying it would have been for a small boy, waking in the night to a darkened house, noises of struggles sounding from the street, readying to evacuate the house if needed. Growing up in Florida, Bradley had never given much thought to the Troubles, aside from feeling a detached compassion for all involved, but the thought that it had affected the person sitting before him, turned his stomach ill. No wonder the lad couldn't sleep in the next room alone.

"Col, I'm sorry – " he began, but the dark-haired boy shook his head, unmistakably wanting to change the subject. Bradley swallowed. "Come on," he leaned sideways to nudge his friend in the too-skinny ribs. "This time, I _will_ beat you."

"Keep dreaming, James," the younger man laughed his retort. Both froze as a loud, insistent knock rapped on Bradley's door, coinciding with another clap of deafening thunder.

Colin lifted one eyebrow at his friend. "You don't think…."

Bradley groaned, pushing himself off the floor. Swinging the door open, he squinted out into the now torrential rainfall, before his eye came to rest on two very determined looking women.

"Step aside, Bradley," Katie pushed her way past him, not waiting for the niceties of an invitation.

Angel followed behind, shrugging apologetically. "We've come to keep you company," she informed him brightly, stopping to shake the water drops out of her hair.

Bradley looked past the girls' head into his friend's eyes, silently questioning if his costar would be alright. Colin gave a slight nod. Apparently, sleep was not in the works for the night. Well, if four young actors failed to show up for their call time tomorrow, Bradley was _not_ taking the blame. Sighing in resignation, he shut the door on the rain and the storm, and turned to join one of the best group of friends he'd ever had in his life. Sleep was really over-rated anyway.


	3. The Season of all Natures

Title: The Season of all Natures

Characters/Pairings: Bradley James, Colin Morgan

Rating: K+

Summary: Sometimes, to help a friend, you have to step outside your comfort zone. Cuddles ensue.

A/N: Most of the one-shots in this collection seem to be Colin-centric, from Bradley's POV. It seems to be easier writing in Bradley's voice. I guess maybe I can identify with him better, because he also seems to think Colin is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen ;) Some of my other one-shots have more Bradley-angst in them, if that's more your thing. And I promise, this is not slash, but it IS the Boys, so… you know…

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin.

She hadn't been right for his friend. He suspected that even Colin had known for some time, but that didn't stop the break-up from hurting. Bradley wasn't sure who had finally been the one to call it off, but he watched as the tells began to show on Colin's face.

At first, it was just the stricken look on the young actor's visage, whenever they finished a scene and he was allowed to drop Merlin's goofy expression. The Irish boy's eyes took on sad, defeated appearance, as if he had failed miserably at something, and knowing Colin, Bradley guessed he was probably blaming himself. In between takes, his friend would follow the blonde over to the folding chairs set off to the side, as usual, but would sit forlornly watching the camera crew, the joking banter noticeably absent between the two.

The younger man's appetite had apparently fled, and Bradley began clandestinely checking his filming partner's plate at meal times, alarmed at the lack of nutrition being consumed by the already scrawny Irishman.

But after about a week of moody sullenness, Bradley decided he had to step in. Waiting and giving Colin his space was not working. It was when the dark circles deepened under his friend's eyes, indicating to all the crew the many sleepless nights his colleague was suffering through, that Bradley decided he'd had enough. He watched that afternoon as Richard draped an arm gently around the dark-haired lad's shoulder, drawing him away during a break in filming, their heads bent close together in earnest conversation. Bradley knew of his costar's respect and affection for the elderly actor, but if Richard couldn't get through to Colin, the blonde was prepared to take whatever action was required to help his friend.

Sitting next to Colin on the van ride home that evening, Bradley's heart was saddened to watch the younger man's eyes listlessly gazing out the windows, purposefully avoiding the other costars chatter. Reaching his arm out to playfully bump his friend's elbow, he waited for Colin to look over before inviting him back to his room to watch a film he'd downloaded to his laptop, a film in _English_ instead of French, thank you very much. To his surprise, Colin stared dully at him for a moment, then silently nodded his consent. Good, first hurdle conquered.

Arriving in his hotel room, Bradley kicked his shoes off with an air of relief, and plopped tiredly down on the bed. Colin quietly followed his actions, and they soon had the film playing, the computer propped on the bed between the two. It was an old 80's film, and the campy humour set the right tone, as both boys settled back into a comfortable silence. Bradley watched his friend in brief, sneaking glances, and was relieved to see the fine lines on the pale face start to ease.

By the time the film's credits began to scroll by, Bradley was feeling decidedly sleepy, but one look at his friend showed the younger man was still wide awake, his long, thin fingers fidgeting on the blanket, his mind clearly wandering again despite the evident exhaustion bordering on near-collapse. It was now or never.

With a slow, cleansing breath to steady his nerves, Bradley pushed his stockinged feet beneath the bed coverings and burrowed under the duvet. He nestled his head comfortably into the cool pillow, then stretched his right arm out and patted the mattress beside him, glancing up at his friend.

Colin broke out of his reverie at the sound, and looked down at the Englishman confusedly, before lifting one eyebrow nearly into his hairline. Bradley fought the urge to laugh, and maintained a nonchalant expression on his face.

"You _can't_ be serious."

Bradley shrugged from where he lay on the oh-so-comfortable-bed-and-why-can't-he-just-shut-up-and-let-me-sleep-already. "Col, I know you haven't been sleeping lately." He lifted his head up, and turned his tone earnestly as his friend continued to gaze at him as if he had suddenly grown two heads, the cerulean eyes watching Bradley almost fearfully. "No one will know… no one will _ever_ know, but you can't keep going on like this, and I'm not going to stand by and watch you self-destruct."

He paused as a look of hurt and anger flashed through the dark blue eyes. Bradley pushed on. "It's alright to need someone once in a while," the blonde continued gently, "….we all do."

Bradley held his breath and the moments ticked by in silence. The dark haired lad hesitated, two pink spots appearing on each well-defined cheekbone, but a moment later, he slowly lay down on the mattress, refusing to look at his friend. But despite pointedly ignoring the other actor, the Irishman settled his head on the outstretched arm which Bradley had refused to move, surprisingly drawing comfort from the mere close proximity of his best mate.

The blonde could sense the body beside him beginning to relax, and soon the dark lashes fluttered closed. Within a few minutes, his friend was fast asleep, having capitulated to a deep weariness, his breath rising and falling evenly in the quiet, dark room. Bradley smiled to himself, satisfied and a bit relieved that he hadn't destroyed the most important friendship he'd ever known. He closed his grey eyes in complete contentment….

Until he awoke the next morning to a face full of dark fluff, which turned out to be the most adorable bed-head he'd ever seen in his life.


	4. Stay With Me

Title: Stay With Me

Characters/Pairings: Bradley James, Colin Morgan

Rating: K+

Summary: The story behind Colin's improv'd "Stay with me" during "The Diamond of the Day" filming.

A/N: I'm posting this as a stand alone one-shot, but wanted to include it in _If These Walls Could Talk_ also, as it was originally intended to go there. I've had this plot bunny for months, but had to wait until I was in the right mood to write it out…. And it def hurt to write! I'm not sure which pains me more…. Merthur or Brolin. Some bromances are more beautiful than any romance I've ever seen. They just hurt. Anyway….. This takes place in the hotel in Cardiff instead of Pierrefonds, and addresses the rumour that Colin Morgan ad-libbed the line "Stay with me.". And of course, this is written as bromance, not slash, as always. xo

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, and sadly, I don't own Colin or Bradley either *cries* All dialogue borrowed from Part two of Diamond of the Day belongs to the Merlin people. And this is not based on real life events, hence the name fanFICTION, but Bradley did say once in an interview that he loved Colin (I'm just throwing that out there).

Bradley ran into his hotel room long enough to change into a pair of soft, worn-out denims and a faded tee. He had reluctantly agreed to meet Colin in his room to do their first read-through together of the final script, and now he was regretting the promise. Tugging his trainers back on, he grabbed his key card and left his room to stride down the hotel corridor.

At Bradley's knock, Colin opened his door, and the blonde immediately sensed the subtle air of dejection in his friend's greeting, and the hooded look shadowing the dark blue eyes. This was nothing new, however. A pensive mood had permeated the set for weeks now, affecting cast and crew alike, as they began to wrap up the final scenes to end the series. There were new projects for some, unemployment for others, but all felt a sense of uncertainty. They would soon be on new sets, with new co-stars and a different set of dynamics. No more Angel to tease and prank good-naturedly; no more Katie, adorable in her bookish nerdiness, slightly scary when she chose to be. No more Colin.

Bradley's musings pulled up abruptly at the thought. No more goofy wide-spread grin greeting him every morning, no sapphire eyes lighting up when he entered the room, no inside jokes and irreverent, dark humour between the two. No steady presence at his side, always nearby, pushing him to find newer depths to his acting skills. Bradley could tell his friend had been thinking much along the same lines, as Colin had become even more introverted and quiet on set the past few days.

The English lad entered the hotel room, and immediately kicked off his shoes, settling on the floor in comfort and familiarity.

When Bradley had initially met his co-star, he had been slightly put off by the boy's reserved behaviour. "Slightly reserved" didn't begin to describe him; he was simply, terribly shy. It had taken a while for Bradley to realize this, but once he had understood that Colin was not rudely dismissing him, he had begun what he liked to call "Operation Breaking Colin". He hadn't been able to accomplish much in large cast gatherings, and if women were present, it was a hopeless case. But off by themselves, Cols had begun to slowly open up, and Bradley had continued pushing with the teasing, the jokes and bullying, until he had finally been allowed glimpses of the real Colin Morgan, and wondered why such a warm, kind soul would hide his true self from the rest of the world.

Over the course of the past five years, the older lad had become very fluent in "Colin-speak", as Col definitely had his tells for those who knew where to look. Bradley had begun to keep a watch during public appearances and press interviews, learning to read Colin's body language easily, especially his hands. He soon understood to look past the cheeky, grinning expression and watch the discreetly clasped hands, fingers squeezed tightly together, or a hand choking the clutched water bottle, knuckles turning white to still the trembling. Bradley had learned which situations made his friend uncomfortable, and had early on discovered that a simple, physical presence offered calming reassurances to the younger co-star. Staying close by whenever possible, he had often offered a light hand to the back or a clasp of an elbow, and the quick flash of gratitude in the cerulean eyes had told him he was doing his job right.

And they had made _such_ a team. Colin was a grounding steadiness to Bradley, as well. Living out of a suitcase in a small hotel room, working long 14 -16 hour days in cold, damp Welsh shoots and sweltering, humid French locations had at times taken their toll on everyone's tempers, and just when Bradley thought he would implode if they did _one more_ bloody take, Colin would appear at his elbow, bouncing up and down like some demented Tigger, and the bitter retort on Bradley's lips would fade to a quick bark of laughter instead. They balanced each other well, soon finding the other's strengths and weaknesses, and their friendship had grown into a functioning unit unlike anything he had ever witnessed before.

And now…. that friendship was weeks away from falling apart, moving on. He knew Cols already had a stage role lined up, and his own agent had a couple of different projects he was seriously considering, most of them on a completely separate continent, half a world away. It was almost over, and while looking forward to new challenges, the thought still made him feel ill, so empty, that he had for the past few days refused to confront it.

For now, though, he and Colin would have to focus on Merlin's and Arthur's goodbye, because saying goodbye to Colin was unthinkable. It would be difficult enough trying to get through the final scenes, as the two actors had grown and developed their respective characters' relationship throughout the five series, and they felt a commiserating sympathy with Merlin's and Arthur's plight.

Bradley watched his friend moving quietly around the small room, pulling a pillow off the bed, searching for his copy of the script. It was only appropriate that they had agreed to meet here to do the finale read-through, as it had been the scene of so many difficult read-throughs and preparations in the past. Bradley suddenly recalled the day Colin had filmed the farewell scene with Laura. The Irish actor had been dreading the scene, and had not looked forward to the personal memories he would be calling on to connect with Merlin's emotional state. The weather had been abysmal that day, and although Bradley had been filming back in the studio in Cardiff, he knew that the location shoot would not have gone smoothly. When Colin's van had arrived back at their hotel later that evening, Bradley had been waiting, pouncing on his friend and dragging him back to his hotel room to ply him with mugs of warm coffee until the shivering, too-lean frame had ceased trembling. The two boys had stayed awake into the wee hours, watching films on the local telly, not talking much but simply being together. It was the first time Colin had stayed all night (because mates just _did not do that_ ) but it had not been the last time they had stayed up through the night, waiting out the emotional pain of a difficult scene, until fatigue and drowsiness had won out, and they fell asleep at peace. Bradley knew they would have another difficult night ahead after filming the scenes by the lake, and he grimaced.

"I guess we should do this?" he questioned, meeting Colin's unhappy gaze. The dark-haired man nodded glumly, and settled on the floor across from Bradley, script book and pencil in hand, and they began the read.

Bradley remembered the first time he had been handed this script. He had known it was good, it was _beyond_ good, but it still had left him with a stomachache for the remainder of the day. The two young men gave voice to the dialogue, penciling in subtle nuances and tossing suggestions back and forth, as the lines they spoke cut into their hearts with a swift, clean evisceration.

They worked through the script, and Colin's voice became weighed down more and more with the sorrow of the words he spoke, his mind's eye envisioning a slain and bleeding king, his heart's friend, dying in his arms.

"Just…just hold me," Bradley reached out and grasped his colleague's hand, remembering the notation he had made earlier that day on the page in front of him. He intentionally lowered his voice to sound fragile and weakened. "Please."

"You're not – " Colin paused, taking a stuttering breath and shaking his head, "You're _not_ going to say goodbye."

Bradley's stomach clenched at the teary voice, knowing the unfathomable pain such a scene would cause Merlin, and knowing the all too real pain it would cost Colin. "I want to say something I've never said to you before," Bradley hesitated, his voice caught with emotion. "Thank you." He instinctively reached out a hand to ruffle Colin's – no, Merlin's – hair, the wells of affection Arthur felt for his manservant flooding his soul. Slowly, he let his hand drift back into his lap.

"Arthur, hey…." Bradley noted with a growing sense of alarm the distress in his friend's voice. "No…. _Arthur_!" Across from him, Colin's shout faltered, and the younger man struggled to continue, his rapid breaths attesting to the inner turmoil he was experiencing. Bradley averted his eyes in the silence, concern for his friend etched on his features, giving Colin space to compose himself enough to continue. But the next sentence threw him off.

"Stay with me." The words, still spoken in Merlin's accent, were quivering and whispered.

Bradley's head shot up. "That's not in here," he frowned, flipping the pages over, scanning the text. "Cols…"

He looked up and met the dark blue eyes, swimming with unshed tears, the expression in them clearly bereft, and ashamed, and lost, and Bradley suddenly knew. _He knew_. They were no longer talking as Merlin and Arthur, and were no longer discussing the aftermath of Camlann. He looked into the wet eyes again, sorrow thinly veiled behind dark lashes, and his heart twisted mercilessly. "Aww, Cols," he sighed sadly, his own sorrow reaching out to meet his friend's.

Taking one palm to cup the back of the other lad's neck, Bradley pulled his friend forward into a crushing hug, and two thin arms quickly snaked around his back and clung to him tightly. And if Bradley felt a few shuddering, stilted breaths shake the slight body in his arms, he said nothing.

Bradley bent his head to rest on top of the dark hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his friend, consigning to memory the mixture of Colin's pine scented organic soap, and the musty, well-worn hoodie; the sound of Colin's even breathing; the view of his co-star's face, the long lashes that could randomly do the strangest things to even the coldest of hearts; the touch of his best mate as they stood side by side, in freezing, blustery courtyards and scorching Welsh forests.

The blonde held onto his colleague for a few moments longer, offering a non-verbal promise that although they would be separated physically, he would always be there when his friend needed him. Bradley bend his head down to kiss the back of the younger man's dark head. He continued to encircle his co-star until Colin's rapid breathing had calmed and the younger lad pushed away, eyes red-rimmed but peaceful. They had said their goodbyes.

The boys kept the line in, when filming began, and Justin had seemed to like it. And as the cameras rolled through take after take, Bradley was held tightly, clutched in Colin's arms, staring for long, sometimes endless, moments up into the most ethereal eyes he'd ever seen. The crew watched in awe as Colin muttered through the tearful words with each take, but to the two lads, the words had become less of a request and more of a promise. _Stay with me._ A promise that signified that while this might be the end of Merlin and Arthur, it would _not_ be the end of James and Morgan.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: Running Late**

 **Characters/Pairings: Bradley James, Colin Morgan**

 **Rating: K+**

 **Summary: Colin is late to the NTAs, but Bradley has always been good about sharing.**

 **A/N: Written for the prompt with Bradley and Colin sharing a seat at the NTAs. I couldn't find much information on this, and only vaguely knew about the story, so apologies for any inaccuracies….this is fiction after all ;) I'm contemplating a Merthur fic at the moment, but would welcome any prompts for this series, as I'm enjoying writing the hotel oneshots. Also, a shameless plug for a fellow author….** _ **The Dollop Head Who Waited**_ **is a 9 year fangirl, whose Merlin and Brolin stories make me laugh til I cry. If you want to read the most innocent, over-the-top bromance fics of all time, head over to her page and check out her work, and leave an encouraging review for a budding writer. The next generation of fanfiction is in good hands!**

 **Disclaimer: To my unending despair, I don't own Merlin, or Colin or Bradley. These events are, of course, complete and utter fiction from my weird, wee brain. As usual, written as non-slash.**

The phone began vibrating in his hip pocket, and Colin pulled it out disinterestedly, setting it on the small table in the corner without a glance. The young man resumed his pacing of the too-small hotel room, glimpsing his pallid reflection in the ornate mirror suspended on the wall. Forget "pasty Irish boy", he was decidedly _green_. He continued his tread across the room, shaking his head as the internal dialogue commenced.

There was _no way_ he was going tonight. He hated red carpets with a passion, and the thought of all those people, however beloved his fans were, had kept him off his food all day. Ignoring the rumble of hunger in his stomach, he pivoted on one heel and strode in the other direction. Besides, what if by some off chance, he actually won! All those eyes….a theatre full of people waiting to hear him speak, and no character role for him to lose himself in and forget the audience's presence. He'd probably reel like a drunken sod from his vision darkening, or worse, lose his sick all over the stage.

Colin began to hyperventilate at the image, and forced himself to calm down, taking slow, deep breaths. This was just foolishness – of course he wasn't going to win. He was up for the award against seasoned, phenomenal actors who had been plying their craft for years, years while he was still traveling back and forth to Belfast on a bus. He quickly blushed that he would even have entertained the idea of being awarded the Bafta, although a little voice inside his head, that sounded suspiciously like a certain Bradley James, whispered, _You deserve it and you know it._

The young actor shook his head. He did _not_ need Bradley's voice chiming in to the confusion. Glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside stand, the wrinkles on the young forehead smoothed. It was too late; the programme had already started. He could blame it on the delayed flight from Dublin. With a sigh of finality, Colin circled back to the table and scooped up his phone to check his messages.

 _Hey, mate, congratulations and best of luck tonight! Looking forward to seeing u again._

The Irish lad closed his eyes briefly. _Bradley_. Although he had not admitted it to himself up til now, this was an even more compelling reason not to go to the NTAs that evening. He opened his eyes again, pushing back against the memories that were threatening to invade his thoughts.

After Merlin had wrapped, Bradley had been true to his word, keeping the promise he had made almost a year ago. The English actor had called and texted frequently, checking on his friend, trying to stay updated on Colin's career and the goings-on in his life. But it had hurt, terribly, waking up every morning and arriving at his call-time, knowing the grinning, ridiculously juvenile blonde would not be there, ready to share a joke or a chuckle at the expense of their co-stars. He had missed his friend - too much - and Colin had done what every good introvert did well; he had withdrawn and pulled away, finding a swift, clean break less painful than the homesickness and pining for a friendship that had burrowed its way into his heart irrevocably.

At first, Bradley had been persistent, sending texts and voicemail despite their being unanswered. His messages had sounded increasingly concerned for his friend's well-being, before he eventually sent Eoin and Rupert after the former colleague. With one final bid, Bradley had sicced Katie on the lad (and wasn't that dirty pool!) before giving up any further attempts at communication, and for the last seven months, a deafening, hurtful silence had stretched between the two. Colin could still feel the pull, though, the tug to be with his best friend again and fall back into their easy ways, and he suspected that if he saw his best mate tonight, it would be his undoing. Some scars were simply best left undisturbed, and the thought of re-visiting those memories of the past few years terrified the young Irish lad more than he cared to admit.

Laying the mobile back down on the table, he huffed in disgust at himself, and kicked off the shiny dress shoes he had worn. There was _no way_ he was going tonight. He must have been mental to even consider it. He flipped the television set on randomly, and moved to the wardrobe, fidgeting with his shirt buttons as he did so.

Tugging at his bow tie, the boy's head suddenly jerked up, hearing his own voice in Merlin's accent. An advertisement for a re-broadcast of the series finale was playing on the screen. The lad paused for a moment, watching the well-known faces flash across the telly, then lowered his hand slowly from the tie. The young man bowed his head in shame. He owed it to Julian, and Johnny, and, well…. to _other people_ , to at least show up tonight, even if he didn't win the award. Squaring his jaw firmly, he slid his stockinged feet back into his shoes, and reached to the bed for his black jacket.

Bradley sat on the end seat near the aisle, willing his fingers not to bounce nervously. _The bloody idiot. He must have decided not to come, after all._ The English lad ignored the somewhat worrisome level of disappointment welling in his chest (which would've been telling, if he chose to examine it closer), and pulled his mobile out of his jacket pocket.

 _Colin Morgan, you bugger. Don't you DARE skip out on this….._

He slumped back in resignation. It didn't matter, as Colin hadn't acknowledged any of his texts for quite some time; and Bradley knew better than anyone, when Colin Morgan ran to ground, _nothing_ was pulling him back into the limelight. He leaned his head forward, as Rupert mumbled something to him, and he nodded his head, without the slightest idea of what he was agreeing to.

A voice cleared its throat politely, and Bradley looked up, startled as the usher stood closely at his elbow. His eyes traveled past the man, and widened at the lad waiting behind him. A grin split the blonde's face. "Colin!" he exclaimed elatedly, not caring that his voice had risen in pitch.

His colleague managed a small, nervous grin, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, painfully aware of the eyes drawn to him while he waited for a seat. The usher stared confusedly at the full row of attendees, and glanced back at the boy, unsure what to do. Bradley looked back at the stricken young man, his face paling by the second as he stood in the aisle for all the world to view, and knew he needed to act quickly, before his friend turned and ran.

"Budge over, Rupert," he called out softly, scooting in his seat to make additional space. "Have a seat, Morgan, you barely take up any room as it is."

The slight lad hesitated for a moment, then gratefully sank down onto the chair, his face blushing furiously.

"Th-thanks," he stammered, not ready to meet the other's gaze.

"So, how you been, Cols?" Bradley questioned breezily, working to keep his voice even and casual. "Ouch!" His carefully planned words were cut off by a quick outcry. "Geez, Colin, watch those skinny little hips of yours!"

"Sorry, sorry" Colin muttered, trying to scoot over without falling completely off the chair. He lifted his sapphire eyes, suddenly dancing with mischief. "it's only… your fat butt doesn't leave me much room."

Bradley threw back his head to laugh loudly, the tension in the air lessening considerably. "Well, this will hit the internet by the end of the night," he said, shifting to settle more comfortably on his half of the seat. "Will make for some great fodder for the fangirls."

"Yeah," Colin snorted, the tight feeling easing in his chest as they fell back into their old banter. " _Colin Morgan and boyfriend cuddle at the NTAs_."

Bradley began to chuckle again, then abruptly stopped. " _And boyfriend_?" His forehead wrinkled in a mock frown. "Is that all I am now…. _and boyfriend_? Don't I even get a name?"

Colin shrugged nonchalantly, raising one eyebrow. How easy this was. "Fame, man. It's a fickle thing."

Bradley's face twitched, fighting back a grin. "Well, if Tumblr is to be believed…. I mean, it's on the internet – it _must_ be true!"

Colin took advantage of the pause to elbow his seat-mate in the ribs in revenge. "Daft eejit…" he muttered threateningly, and his friend continued laughing, drawing him into the mirth. A pointed look from Johnny, and the two actors sobered, quietly shaking as they attempted to restrain their chortles.

Bradley bent to the right, answering a question from Eoin, and the Irishman leaned back, his arm brushing up against his friend. How could he have forgotten? _This_ was where he had drawn his strength from. Not in busying himself in work-addicted projects, but in friendship and camaraderie. He leaned slightly into the touch of his friend, the recent dull ache balanced out by a sense of contentment. Colin waited silently, all nervousness forgotten, as he listened to Bradley and Eoin's hilarious, snide comments about the other contending programmes up for awards.

The apprehension returned full-force, however, as the NTA presenter introduced the nominees for Best Actor. The lad, now sitting in his own seat next to Bradley, looked down at his trembling hands in his lap. It would be fine, because there was no possibility he could have won, and he tried to convince himself that this was what he hoped for. Suddenly, they were calling his name, and Bradley's arm had pulled him down into a half-hug, his other hand pounding away at Colin's chest in his excitement.

The Irishman somehow made it to the platform in disbelief, and accepted the award, his mouth suddenly dry. Ever the actor, Colin's eyes roamed the theatre hall with a smile plastered on his visage, but he was only aware of one face in the crowd, a face with a beaming smile and eyes that glistened suspiciously. Ending his speech quickly, Colin disappeared backstage to wait for press photos and post-show interviews.

With a heady feeling of elation at his friend's success, Bradley sat through the remainder of the awards ceremony, enjoying his costars' snarky asides, but missing the banter with his best mate. As the ceremony neared its end, he pulled his phone out again, and quickly thumbed a text.

 _Where r u?_

The reply came swiftly.

 _Back at the hotel._

Bradley shook his head, disappointment flitting across his face.

 _You're going to the after-party tho?_

 _Are you mad?!_

The English boy rolled his eyes, then huffed. The party would have been fun, and he was fairly certain there would have been a vast assortment of pretty girls to flirt with. He briefly shot off another message.

 _Fine. We're still celebrating. Meet u at the pub across from your hotel in half an hour._

Bradley waited with held breath until his phone vibrated. One word.

 _Ok_

He grinned, slipping the mobile back into his pocket. Someone was due for a severe talking-to about disappearing acts; then all the jumbled pieces of his world that had been so out of sorts for the past year, would fall back into place again. Ignoring the calls from Rupert and Tom, he hurried outside, motioning for a taxi.


End file.
